" "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. McClintock's heart went out to Spurlock; he would always be the boy's friend, even though he had dragged this girl on to the rocks with him. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. He smiled complacently.
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